We Are The Carriers
by Emily 'Gadget' Robins
Summary: They'd been cast out from society because their bodies harbored the sickness everyone feared. If they came in contact with the nonimmune they could doom the world. Now the Carriers meet the Survivors of L4D2 and Nick wants a favor from the outcasts. V


**The Carriers**

**Prologue**

* * *

**Safe-house; Elmwood, Georgia**

* * *

They'd been walking for hours beneath the blazing Georgia sun. Thirst gripped at their throats and exhaustion threatened to take over the small group. Silence reigned with an iron fist as they trudged down the pavement. Even Ellis was too tired to break it.

For four and a half weeks they'd been working towards salvation. For 31 unspeakably long days they'd been doing what they could to survive. For seven hundred and fourty four hours they'd lived among the 'undead' (44,640 minutes according to Nick's absentminded calculations).

Now, after coming so close to the freedom they all wanted so badyl, they were all seceretly wondering how much longer they would hold out on their own. Four survivors against a whole world of countless 'zombies' weren't exactly good odds to be playing at. With all of them injured, the odds of survival were dropping at an impressive rate.

Coach was leading Rochelle, Nick, and Ellis through a small suburban town called 'Elmwood'. It was a three days hike from Whispering Oaks. Since it was mostly void of a real 'zombie' threat other than the occasional stumbling common, their only real problem was finding a place to sleep and some still edible food.

"The sign said the safe house is just ahead. Get ready to barricade the doors and search for supplies." The eldest man called over his shoulder. Nobody argued. Since the last attempt to escape epically failed they'd all stepped back and let Coach take charge. They followed his orders mostly because none of them really wanted the burden of being 'team leader' anyways.

The red door was a welcome sight to everyone's sore eyes. The safe house it opened up to seemed like heaven. Everyone went right to work, still not speaking their doubts out loud.

Ellis was the first to notice the strange change. After a quick glance around he pinned down what exactly it was. "Hey guys, is it jus' me or is it awful clean in here fo' a safe house an' all?"

It was true. While most safe places were smattered with blood, full of garbage and bullet cartridges and empty guns, not to mention the usual bloody corpse, this one had been cleaned up. The walls and floor had been scrubbed clean of all offensive liquid. A half full garbage can rested in the corner. Stacks of ration boxes were carefully pushed up against eachother in a neat little tower. The whole foyer looked more like a base of operations than a hastily thrown together safe house.

"I agree with the kid," Nick examined some neatly piled papers. "Someone spent a lot of time in hear."

"That's odd…why not just move on to the evac?" Rochelle questioned, mostly to herself.

Coach merely shrugged, placing the metal lock bar onto the door's latch. "Maybe they didn't know about it. Either way, we need to find food. Check those boxes Nick. Ro, see if there's any ammo upstairs, Ellis," the southern mechanic straightened up, curious as to what his job was. "You're on door duty."

"A 'course I'm on door duty." He grumbled. Honestly, he didn't really care where he was stationed as long as he didn't have to stare out at the stumbling 'undead' passing by. While everyone else was going about their jobs he let his mind wander. Those…_**things**_ had killed his best friend Keith. Since they were kids, Keith had been the one Ellis would go to when he needed help. Older and stronger than Ellis had been, Keith was always in some kind of trouble. Whether it was the coon fights or being attacked by owls he was always doing something out of the ordinary.

"I found something!" Ro called, coming down the stairs and shaking the youngest of the group out of dream land. She was holding a katana sword in front of her, examining the gleaming sharp blade. "No guns and no ammo, but they've got melee's out the wazoo up there."

"Sweeeeeeeet," Ellis scrambled over and gazed at the weapon. "Woah! Ya know once Keith and I foun' a sword like this 'un when we were kids an'—"

"So, there's no ammo?" Nick asked, cutting Ellis off. "That's just _**perfect**_." He growled disdainfully.

"Well, we'll have to make do with what we've got." Coach sighed. He set a box aside and opened another. "Looks like ration bars and soup for dinner, kids. At least we can stock up from here."

As the group settled in and started eating the ration bars and building up a tiny controlled fire. Heating the soup, they chatted softly, trying to plan their next course of action.

Again Ellis found his mind straying away from the conversation and back to the fact that the safe-house had been recently scrubbed down and organized. The walls were bare and there was only one section of writing. _Wait a second…_ Standing up, Ellis walked over to the wall. A single column of neat hand writing stretched down the wall from just above eye level, to the floor.

It read;

_**Rules of a Carrier:**_

**1. Guns are destructive, but handheld melee weapons are silently so.**

**2. Keep to the walls; no one likes an attack to the back.**

**3. Be 100% prepared BEFORE ringing the dinner bell.**

**4. Keep fed and hydrated; don't head out hungry and stock up on supplies often.**

**5. Sweep every building…TWICE…They could be anywhere.**

**6. Sweep every building ****AGAIN****! No "we already did this one."**

**7. Avoid contact with all unimmune; no need to worsen our names.**

**8. Always keep the upper hand; use every advantage.**

**9. It's our world now.**

**10. Have an established leader; no arguing over what to do.**

**11. Get creative; there's no end to how you can kill these ghouls.**

**12. Stay entertained; keep your mind busy when off-duty. No one likes a crazy.**

**13. NEVER LEAVE ANYONE BEHIND! We are all we have left.**

**14. Be ready to run at all times; don't return for any object.**

**15. Even though the world doesn't want us; we can still take it back for those who will survive.**

In much sloppier, rushed writing that stretched from the last line down onto the floor boards it said;

_**THE ONLY GOOD CARRIER IS A DEAD CARRIER.**_

The young man raised an eyebrow at the last line before returning to the top and reading rules 1 through 15 over again. According to the 'Graffiti Gossip'—aka the writing on the walls—'Carriers' were people who were immune, but could pass the infection onto others. "Hey, Coach, did yew read this?"

"What is it, son?"

"It's the 'Rules of a Carrier'. I think they're the ones who've been hidin' out here."

Coach joined the perplexed mechanic at the wall, reading through the list. When he finished he shook his head. "Whoever they were Ellis, I doubt they're coming back.

*_*_#$(%$^_&$%^#$%#^%%%***(&^$$AND^*$#$

"Coach…" Nick whispered, nudging the bigger man with the toe of his shoe.

Said man sat up, rubbing his eyes to rid them of sleep. "What is it, Nick? My shift already?"

"No we've got company."

Now Coach was on his feet, following the card-shark to the door. "A horde?"

"No…People."

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**All righty then, there you go. Our four brave survivors are about to confront other people for the first time since the bridge. **

**Now, if you have read my other L4D story you know that I have a soft spot for those who have been cast out because of the infection. When I started seeing that everyone just wanted the carriers to die, I decided to experiment with some carriers of my own to show how they have changed because of the outbreak. Please let me know what you think, if you stick around long enough you may get your own say in what happens.**

**Please review, all are read and addressed through either answers in my writing or direct PMs/Mentions. Thank you.**

**EGR.**


End file.
